


A Man and his Books

by oceans_and_lovers



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Book lover Charles, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is a Father, First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 09:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12478484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceans_and_lovers/pseuds/oceans_and_lovers
Summary: "Charles, this is getting out of hand."Raven was standing in the middle of his crampt apartment, one hand on her hip and the other pointing accusingly at the mountains of hardbacks, paperbacks and dictionaries that filled Charles' home."-Charles owns a lot of books - perhaps too many. So,  he sets up a book stall and guess who stops by?





	A Man and his Books

**Author's Note:**

> "I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading." – Jane Austen
> 
> Alternative titles for this one shot:  
> \- True Love and a Good Book  
> \- You Can Never Own Too Many Books

"Charles, this is getting out of hand."

Raven was standing in the middle of his crampt apartment, one hand on her hip and the other pointing accusingly at the mountains of hardbacks, paperbacks and dictionaries that filled Charles' home, not forgetting either the straining book shelves against the walls and the piles of books on the counters.

"Raven, I am a Professor, I should be allowed to read and collect a little."

Charles smiled absentmindedly and ran his fingertips over the covers of some of his most beloved editions as Raven squawked,

"A little? Charles, I have seen entire libraries with fewer books in them than are in your kitchen."

He raised his eyebrow at that and she threw up her arms and groaned.

"Charles, donate some. Please for my sanity. Or sell them. Or throw them at your students.”

She came and stood in front of him then, begging;

“Anything that means I don't have to tell Hank the number of books you own is higher than the number of people he has met in his entire life."

Picking up a few displaced editions and dusting them down, Charles moved past Raven humming to himself and studiously ignoring her pleas, and she stormed out of his apartment, grumbling to herself and threatening interventions. 

Her suggestions did stay with Charles though and they ran through his mind that evening when he tripped over, once again, the stray pile of paperbacks which had been leaning against his bedroom wall, which he had been intending to read for months.

 

He did love to read. He always had. For all his birthdays since he was child, he would ask for books. In fact, one of the best dates he'd ever been on had been to a bookstore with a gift card of $100 – he’d almost weeped.

However, Charles could see how things may have got a bit 'out of hand'.

His last boyfriend had threatened to burn his collection of first editions, as he felt they meant more to Charles than he did – they’d broken up a week later, and Charles' whole collection had grown impressively since then. Maybe it’d grown too much.

So, Charles bit his lip, looked over his most precious possessions and resolved to cutting down his collection - slightly.

 

-

 

He'd sold three books and hadn't cried. Charles counted that as a success. 

It was the tail end of summer, yet Charles had only been out for half an hour and was already tired. Out on the pavement, the sun felt obscenely hot and the only option he had for shade was to crawl under his book stall and curl into an undignified ball. 

It was saying something that he was even considering it.

Charles had spent seven painstaking hours sifting through all the books he owned and picking out the ones he could manage to sell without feeling like a criminal - considering his cooking track record, he'd felt able to remove his encyclopaedia on herbs and spices with little reservations. 

The same could be said for his copy of 'The Smart Girl's Guide to Her Destiny'. He didn’t believe much in it anyway.

Now he had over thirty books laid out on his table and felt awful about it.

As he was selling them just out on the street, he'd made the decision to donate the money he made to the local library, and he was also offering free cups of water to anyone who wanted some, so his conscious was clear. 

But, he still felt an affinity with the books which made it uncomfortable for him to see them go anywhere but to a good home.

 

"Excuse me, could my daughter have a drink?" 

Charles was pulled from his reverie by a steely voice and turned his head upwards to lock eyes with the man towering above him. 

"Uh, yes of course she can," Charles rushed to reply and poured the small girl a glass of water.

As he was doing so, Charles hoped he didn’t look as awestruck as he felt, because, really, the man was an absolute adonis – his shirt, as close fitting and damp from sweat as it was, left little to imagined…

He began to feel a blush creeping up his neck and put a stop to that train of thought - god, Charles, do you enjoy making yourself look like a fool whilst ogling complete strangers?

He shook his head, and smiled widely at the sweet girl whom he passed the cup to. Then, he marshalled his thoughts, looked up again and smiled at the being who must logically be her father.

 

"Would you like some?"

Charles asked it with a calm, steady voice, feeling incredibly proud of himself for not stumbling or stuttering like an idiot.

But, instead of answering, the frankly gorgeous man squeezed his daughter's hand and turned to walk away.

And in a fit of panic, Charles practically shouted,

"Would you like a book? I'm selling off some of my collection."

Could he have sounded more stupid? 

Internally groaning, Charles’ smile at the pair of them grew impossibly wider as they paused at the edge of his table. The man glanced fleetingly at Charles' selection and seemed to be once again turning away until,

 

"Are those only $1?"

Seeing the copies the man was referring to, Charles hastily nodded and moved closer, being the damned fool that he was, eager to delay their departure even by a few minutes.

"Yes, I am rather keen to be rid of them. I purchased them for my sister, though it later transpired she was not pregnant at all and therefore had no need for a book on learning the alphabet."

Across the table, the stranger's lips quirked slightly at Charles' commentary, and he reached to pull the book from the table, before crouching down to address his daughter.

Charles couldn't hear what was being said but the man's tone was kind and gentle - clearly trying to interest his daughter in the book he held before her.

Handsome, kind… Charles couldn’t help but daydream for a moment before pulling himself together – drooling over men he’d only just met on the street was a new low, even for him.

After a minute of persuasion, the man straightened and nodded at Charles, a small smile on his lips as he passed the book to Charles and said,

"Just this then."

 

The man had an accent, and Charles quickly came to the conclusion, as he slowly made a note of the man's purchase, that he could listen to him read the dictionary and still be entranced.

“You’re into horoscopes?”

Pen frozen, Charles glanced up from his notes to see the man raise his eyebrows, a hint at his amusement, and Charles could only cover his embarrassment by chuckling and saying,

“Oh no, my friend, I wash my hands of that book and blame my sister entirely. I’m a professor, so I claim to have at least some standards of decency.”

To avoid the look in the man’s eyes, Charles once again cast his eyes down and, finally finishing the receipt, handed the children’s book to the man as his daughter slowly sipped her drink, leaning against her father’s leg. 

 

As the book passed between them for the second time, their fingers lightly brushed and Charles felt himself blush properly this time, his face probably managing to go even redder than it already was.

Goddammit, Raven always said he wore his heart on his sleeve. How pathetic could he be?

To his rising horror, the stranger seemed to have noticed his embarrassment at their contact as instead of walking away, book in hand, his grin simply grew and Charles felt like he was being sized up by a disconcertingly attractive shark.

 

"Daddy? Why are you smiling? I want to go!"

The little girl pulled on her father's hand, yet he maintained eye contact with Charles and Charles couldn't look away for the life of him, staring as he was into the man's stormy eyes, an intensity existing suddenly between them.

"Daddy!"

The man sighed and broke their eye contact to kiss his daughter's forehead. 

Charles took a shuddering breath and smoothed his shirt down, feeling the primal urge to giggle or cry.  
Maybe both.

"Okay Lorna, let's go. Say thank you to the nice man," and the stranger returned his gaze to Charles and cocked his head,

"Whose name is..."

"Charles. My name's Charles."

The man's eyes crinkled as his daughter - Lorna – muttered her thanks to Charles and began pulling her father’s hand to get away from the stall, clearly bored with it all on such a warm day.

 

Charles had already twisted away from the two of them feeling saddened, which was ridiculous he decided, as they were still practically strangers. They could both be murderers. He didn’t know them at all really…

"Hell," he muttered to himself, "I don't even know his name."

"Erik Lehnsherr."

At that, Charles spun round to stare wide eyed at the man who he'd thought had gone, and the man - Erik, god, it suited him - pulled out a ragged piece of paper and scrawled on it before placing it on the table between them.

And then he was gone, dragged impatiently down the street by Lorna.

Charles was shaking as he turned over the man's note and gripped the table tightly as he saw the man's - Erik's - number and note:

I'd love to re-home some of your collection. Chat over coffee?

And Charles practically swooned.


End file.
